he small slicker pack on its rear. Then he paced the
length of the barn, frowning in a thoughtful mood.

There was only one thing he was reasonably sure of; no one around the
town knew that he was the outlaw known as The Coyote. He had not seen
anybody he knew except the sheriff, and that official was safely out
of the way for the present. Gomez had mentioned his name when they had
first met, but he had not been heard save by Rathburn. Therefore, if
they were looking for the man who had shot down Gomez, they were
merely looking for a man measuring up to his description; and Rathburn
doubted if anything would be done until the authorities had been
notified. Visitors to the sheriff's office would find Long out and
would assume that he had not returned from the chase in the hills. It
might be another hour before the sheriff's predicament was discovered.
And in that hour----

Rathburn caught himself up with another shrug. He was falling a prey
to his former hopeless trend of thought. Resentment was swelling
within him again, and he struggled to put it down. Perhaps it would be
safer to yield to the inclination to take a chance on the courts.

It was after nine o'clock when he rode out of the barn. He proceeded
straight toward the main street of the town. He was struggling
with a half-formed resolve; summoning courage by shutting out all
recollections save that of Laura Mallory's apparently earnest remark
about the compass.

Reaching the main street, he started to turn the corner at the bank
building when he suddenly checked his horse and stared at two people
walking up the opposite side of the street. Rathburn recognized the
girl immediately. She was Laura Mallory. A moment later he caught a
glimpse of the man's face, as he half turned toward Rathburn,
laughing. He had taken Laura's arm. It was Doane!

The realization that Laura had come to town and was in the company of
Doane stunned Rathburn. More than anything else it had the effect of
convincing him that Gomez had been right when he had hinted that
Doane was successful in love. Hadn't she told him to take his gun when
Eagen had been waiting for him? Had she thought, perhaps, that there
would be gun play, and that Eagen might emerge the victor, thus
assuring her that he, Rathburn, would bother her no more?

Rathburn's eyes narrowed, and his face froze, as he watched Laura and
Doane out of sight up the street. He knew now why he had had to come
back. There was noth